Chapter 6
Logan
By the time Friday rolled around, the milkshake plan had evolved from a simple thank you to a full-blown operation.
Harper had drawn a sign that said MILKSHAKE PARTY!!! in pink marker, complete with stick figures of me, her, and Dani. Apparently, I had the biggest muscles and Dani had sparkles floating around her neon yellow hair.
Our kitchen looked like an ice cream grocery aisle had exploded. There were three different kinds of ice cream, two types of whipped cream, rainbow sprinkles, and a carton of milk that Harper insisted had to be “the shake-iest milk.” Whatever that meant.
“Okay, Captain,” I said, surveying the mess. “What’s the game plan here?”
She perched on a stool, legs swinging, holding a notepad like she was running the operation.
Harper tapped the notepad twice, leaning forward with the seriousness of a general.
“Daddy, you’re in charge of the blender,” she declared, allowing a beat of silence for emphasis. “I’m the flavor decider.” After another thoughtful pause, she added with dramatic flair, “And Dani’s the guest of honor.” Her gaze narrowed conspiratorially. “So, she gets the first taste.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Guest of honor, huh?”
Harper nodded seriously. “She saved my hair.”
I hesitated, reaching for the ice cream scoop. “You really like her, huh?”
Harper beamed. “She’s funny. And she smells nice. She’s like Aunt Cami, but with lawyer powers.”
“Lawyer powers?”
“Yeah.” She leaned closer, lowering her voice as if it were a secret. “She uses big words, but not in a boring way.”
“Huh, impressive skill,” I said, dropping scoops of ice cream into the blender. “You think she’ll like chocolate or strawberry?”
“Um,” she said, pondering over the decision for a moment. “Both.”
I shook my head, catching myself smiling as I poured milk into the blender.
I wish I could say it was the first time my thoughts drifted to her, but they had been persistent and frequent since the night of Cami and Hunter’s wedding.
I’d been thinking about Dani more than I wanted to admit.
About her uninterrupted laugh, the way she had knelt beside Harper with total patience, no trace of condescension, just genuine warmth.
And the way something in my chest had loosened when she looked at me across that diner table, like I had forgotten for a second I was supposed to stay guarded.
When she’d answered Harper’s FaceTime call earlier in the week without hesitation, she hadn’t sounded annoyed or distracted. Instead, she was amused, kind. It shouldn’t have meant much, but it did. Harper was my world, all that I had left. Seeing her happy made everything feel worth it.
After Elena died, I’d built my life around Harper.
Not in the helicopter-parent way, but in the I don’t know what else to do with my hands kind of way.
I had no idea what I was doing when she came into the world.
All I knew was that I couldn’t mess it up.
So I leaned into the only thing I knew: structure, routine, and predictability.
If I kept things structured enough, maybe the grief wouldn’t knock the wind out of me when I least expected it.
That was how I survived the unfiltered ache of missing someone who should’ve been here enjoying it all with me.
Control was how I survived.
“Daddy,” Harper said, snapping me out of my thoughts. “You’re zoning.”
“Sorry, kiddo. Thinking about the flavor ratios.”
She squinted suspiciously. “Thinking about Ms. Dani.”
I tried and failed not to grin. “Harper…”
“You were smiling like this.” She contorted her face into a goofy expression somewhere between heart-eyes and indigestion.
I stared for a moment, caught off-guard by her mimicry. Harper’s enthusiasm always had a way of breaking through any facade I tried to maintain.
“Not funny” I said lightly. She was digging and hoping for things I could never give her.
The blender roared to life, drowning out her giggles. When I turned it off, she was already climbing down from her stool to grab the sprinkles.
“Daddy?” she said, serious again. “Ms. Dani makes you different.”
My throat tightened. “Different how?”
“Happy different.”
The words hit me right in the sternum.
I paused, hand hovering over the whipped cream. “Yeah?”
“At the breakfast, you forgot to be sad,” she said simply.
There wasn’t anything I could say to that. So I just smiled and brushed a curl from her forehead. “You’re too smart for your own good, you know that?”
She grinned. “I know.”
When Dani knocked a few minutes later, the house already smelled like chocolate and bad decisions.
Harper darted for the door, flinging it open before I could even dry my hands. “Ms. Dani!”
Dani stood in the doorway, sunlight behind her. Her hair was loose and wavy like it’d been twisted up all day, and she wore a soft cream blouse tucked into jeans. She looked effortlessly put-together in that way that made it difficult to look away.
As she stepped past me, a hint of something bright followed her. It was fruity, floral, and warm without being sweet.
“Hey, troublemaker,” she said, crouching to Harper’s level. “I heard we’re having a milkshake party.”
“Yep! Daddy’s the blender guy. I’m the boss. You’re the taster.”
Dani looked up at me with a grin. “I like this chain of command.”
“I don’t,” I said, stepping aside to let her in. “It’s a mess in here, and I’ve been demoted twice already.”
The kitchen was still a bit of a war zone, with splatters of chocolate, a mountain of napkins, and whipped cream scattered on the floor.
She didn’t seem to mind, though. As Harper eagerly explained the flavor combinations, Dani’s eyes met mine briefly before she returned to laughing along with Harper, the sound a soothing contrast to the disorder surrounding them.
“So this one is The Hair Emergency Deluxe,” Harper said, pointing to the blender. “And this one’s The Pancake Lawyer, but Daddy says it’s too weird.”
“Sounds… very interesting,” Dani said.
“Want to weigh in?” I said, handing her a spoon.
She dipped it in the shake, tasted, and smiled. “Perfect consistency. You’re not too bad.”
I leaned against the counter, arms folded, as my daughter chattered away while Dani helped her pour milkshakes into glasses, wiping stray drips off the counter.
My fingers twitched toward the paper towels every so often, betraying my instinct to jump in and assist. Instead, I pocketed my hand, forcing myself to let Harper and Dani share this moment without my intervention.
“So, Logan,” Dani said, leaning one hip against the counter. “How often does Harper rope you into these culinary adventures?”
“Weekly,” I said. “Last week we made cookies that could double as hockey pucks.”
Harper giggled. “We can make them for Aunt Cami’s kids! They like hockey!”
“That’s generous of you,” I said.
While Harper ran to grab her drawing of the “menu,” Dani looked around, taking in the details of the house. The photos on the wall, the books on the shelf, the framed picture of Harper as a baby in my arms. Her gaze lingered on that one, and something softened in her expression.
“She was tiny,” she said gently.
“Five pounds, ten ounces,” I said. “Could fit in one hand. Scared the hell out of me.”
“She’s beautiful,” she said. “You’ve done a really good job, you know.”
I wasn’t used to hearing that. People always said you’re doing your best, or it must be hard, but this felt different.
Like recognition. The unexpected sincerity in Dani’s words made my heart skip a beat, sending a flutter of surprise through me.
In that moment, before I even responded, I could feel the impact of her compliment ripple through me.
“Thanks,” I said, voice low. “Most days I feel like I’m making it up as I go.”
“Aren’t we all?” she said, giving a small shrug. “Parenting, law, life. There’s no manual.”
I smiled faintly. “You sound like someone who could write one.”
“Oh, no,” she said quickly, laughing. “My manual would just be full of questionable advice and sarcasm.”
“Better than the Marine Corps version,” I said. “Ours was mostly yelling.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “I can’t picture you yelling.”
“I save it for the really serious things. Like when Harper hides my phone in the freezer.”
“That was one time!” Harper called from the living room.
“Two,” I corrected.
Dani covered her smile, but her eyes danced.
Harper reappeared, brandishing her notepad again. “Okay! Everyone rates their milkshake!
We obeyed.
By the time we finished, Harper was half-asleep on the couch, surrounded by crayons and the remnants of a sugar high.
I draped a blanket over her and turned to find Dani rinsing glasses in the sink.
“I can take care of that,” I said.
She shrugged. “I don’t mind.”
The kitchen was quiet except for the faint sound of the ocean pouring in through the windows.
“I think she’s smitten,” Dani said softly, nodding toward Harper, curled up on the couch.
I hesitated, letting a pause linger before replying. “She has good taste,” I said, before realizing how that sounded.
She looked up, amused. “Smooth.”
I fought to keep my expression steady. I wanted to say something back, to correct her. I didn’t want to give her the impression that the statement meant anything close to what it came out to mean.
But then she smiled, not in a teasing way, in a knowing way that told me she’d already made up her own conclusion.
I walked Dani to the door a few minutes later.
“Thanks for coming,” I said. “You made her week.”
“She made mine,” Dani said. “And yours too, maybe?”
“Yeah,” I admitted. “Mine too.”
Her smile widened, soft but sure. “Good. Because Harper says next time, I’m teaching you how to braid.”
“Looking forward to it,” I deadpanned.
She laughed. “Night, Logan.” I was suddenly aware of how close she stood. Close enough that reaching out would’ve been easy. Too easy, my hands stayed at my sides, fingers flexing once before stilling.
“Night, darlin’.”
When the door clicked shut behind her, I stood there for a moment, just listening to the lull of the room.
Harper murmured from the couch, half-asleep. “Daddy?”
“Sleep, bug.” I brushed a hand over her hair, smiling despite the heat rising inside of me.
And as I turned off the lights and looked out toward the ocean, I watched the ocean roll steadily.
I’d built my life around that rhythm. Around routine, safety, structure. But tonight, there was something else. Something that felt a lot like stepping into deep water without checking the current first.
And I didn’t like that.